The Anthology of Discord
by blueblooded
Summary: Please R and R, first story. The 41st millenia is a vast universe, brimming with tales of heroism, villainy and life. Among these are the stories of Discord, a series of events leading up to a pivotal rift in the warp which may spell doom for all.
1. Chapter 1

The planet Tiberius.

A harsh world situated at the very tip of the galaxy's eastern fringe. The closest planet to its sun, it is doused instead by great seas of molten magma that dominate its surface. It's rocky continents are dotted with miles upon miles of treacherous mountain ranges, made ever changing by the brutal winds that swirl within the athmosphere, carving the earth with untamed force. The athmosphere itself was but a cocktail of thick, toxic gases unheard of in the human table of elements, without even the slightest hint of oxygen in the mix.

Needless to say, this planet could not support life on its own. But deep within the subterrenean caverns beneath the raging sea of flame lay a vivid contrast from the surface. Given light by strange crystals embedded into the cavern ceilings, lush jungles teeming with all sorts of life flourished and spread like a living carpet, untouched by any outside force since the birth of the planet. That is of course, until now.

"Burn!" Rang a shrill, distorted voice as a torrent of purple flame tore a flaming swathe across the green jungle canopy, reducing miles upon miles of life into a field of glowing embers and ash. At the borders of the destruction and the untouched jungle, all forms of creatures fled for their lives, predator and prey pushing past each other as a terrible sense of foreboding overcame their primal minds.

At the source of the inferno stood a dark, towering figure, more than three meters in height, the ground around him still glowing with the unholy energies of his arrival. His body was completely encased in heavy and intricately designed armor, a vivid dark blue and gold in color, ornate with runes that shimmered with dark energies. His shoulders were laden with massive pauldrons, and on his head, he wore a great horned helm of gold that revealed only his empty eyes to the world around him. In his left hand, he held a twisted staff of silver coils wrapping around a horned, inhuman skull at it's tip, it's gaping jaw fixed into a scream like impression with hazing smoke coming from it's mouth. In his right hand, he held a great tome which seemed proportional to his size, numerous heavy chains erupting from it's spine and wrapping around his arm, seemingly melding into his armor. Robes of unnaturally pure white cloth billowed from his torso and trailed gracefully behind him as he strode forward with surprising ease, his massive boots crushing anything it stepped on, leaving gigantic foot prints in the barren black ground.

"It is here..." He whispered in his deep distorted voice beneath the helm, as if speaking to beings only he could see. "By the gods, it is here... I can feel it's presence, tasting my soul like a fine wine... It's chilling fist wrapping around my heart and mind..."

He walked for a few meters more, indulging in the sensation before coming to a halt, the chains that bound him to the book gently rattling, echoing in the now silent place.

"Is this what you brought me here for, my master?" There was silence, and the answer came in the form of a raging wind that swirled momentarily around the speaker before dying down instantly. Without further hesitation, he raised his staff to the heavens and said "For You have spoken, so shall it be done..."

Bringing his staff down hard on the charred ground, tendrils of dark energy twisted from the skull's gaping mouth, slithering down the staff before scattering across the earth in all directions like a swarm of ravaging serpents. The ground shook as the swift tendrils raced in all directions finally slamming the walls of the untouched jungles like a black wave. The tendrils advanced further, corrupting all forms of life as they ventured deeper into the jungle with the taint of chaos.

"Look, my Master..." The sorceror whispered once more with barely contained excitement. "As I speak, your Holy influence reaches out to all the souls of this ignorant place... Soon, it will reach that which you seek... That which shall bring this universes Salvation..."

The winds swirled around him once more, longer this time, with greater force that a perfect circle was traced on the ground around him, and Sorceror Lord Antiphameus the Enlightened smiled toothily beneath his helm at his Master's approving response.

"Thank You, my Master... Thank You for this Holiest of blessings..." By this time, the tendrils had entirely covered the subterrenean jungle of this continent, writhing in bundles of dark energy before they tunneled into the rocky walls of the jungle edges, determined to spread all throughout the planet. "Through my soul and body, You shall once more feast upon the souls of this universe..."

Meanwhile, in an altogether different plane of reality, malevolent laughter echoed throughout the immaterium as the dark eyes of a being of immeasurable power watched his pawn enact his millenia old plans.


	2. Chapter 2

**Death Korps: A cold hearted but gallant defender of the Imperium in his mid-thirties? Funny you should mention that…**

**Episode I: The Tragedy of Dionysius VII**

As the Being savored the taste of His triumph on His lips, His laugh echoing across the expanse of the warp, arcane energies wrought like snakes all over Tiberius, like a dark pox over taking the planet. Satisfied, He left the sorcerer to his duties and shifted his gaze across the other side of the galaxy, cold bloodshot eyes searching through myriads of planets as if they were mere grains of sand on His palm. Moments had passed, and He finally found what He was searching for, like a gleeful child finding a long lost toy. Holding His trophy high into the air, His gaze narrowed as He watched with interest the events falling upon the icy planet He grasped.

Dionysius VII was a world perpetually covered by snow and ice, but despite these seemingly harsh conditions, life flourished there. A world under the Imperium of Man, it was the best source of snow growing fruits and vegetables, components of a one of a kind and rare whisky, delicacies in the more highly industrialized worlds, thus making it a bustling rural planet of trade and commerce.

Commissar-Major Santiago took mental notes of these facts from atop his perch on the foremost barricade of an Imperial defensive line. Puffing on his cigar for warmth, his eyes surveyed the snow covered expanse which was soon to be his battlefield, and quite possibly his grave. With an annoyed grumble, he immediately reeled from such thoughts and instead busied his mind with the battle reports. For the past few weeks, a massive ork waaagh! had emerged from the icy peaks of the continent and begun a devastating rampage that left several key cities and dozens of settlements in ruin, as well as crushing several assaults to halt their carnage, one of which was a Space Marine taskforce assigned to this planet.

The Adeptus Biologis had said that these were Feral Orks, savage bastard offspring of previous Ork Waaaghs! that lay dormant as spores for decades before maturing into full sized green skins. It annoyed him that, according to the Biologis, this may become a regular incident every few decades or so.

The previous Ork Invasion had happened nearly two centuries ago, during the younger years of planetary settlement. A coalition strike force of Space Marines and Guardsman had successfully repelled those invaders, but this was the ironic fruit of that victory. This one took the planet's defenders totally by surprise, hence the huge losses. Each force that faced the green skin threat was a hastily assembled shock force that was no match for the largest Waaagh! ever seen in this entire space sector. Though primal savages armed with weapons as primitive as rocks and crude clubs, as well as armor as simple as war paint and loin cloths, the Waaagh!s true strength lay in the sheer number of greenskins that made it. Led by the xenos known as Warboss Ghazzak da Butcha', his waaagh! boasts hardy ork warriors numbering over a hundred thousand, visible from outer space in the form of a moving green blemish on it's nearly flawless snowy white surface, leaving a trail of ruin in it's wake.

It took days before a viable task force was assembled, his. Composed by the joint forces of all Imperial forces that could answer the call, it was a ramshackle army of varying doctrines and soldiers. Far from the reaches of off planetary aid, it was looking more like a last stand with each passing second.

Santiago took a grim look at the men that surrounded him. Their defense was situated along the barren plains en route to the largest and most vital space port on the planet. Hastily erected barricades and trenches were dug in an effort to hold position against the oncoming waagh!, dotting the battlefield with barbed wire fences and the like. Artillery guns and heavy weapon platforms were hurriedly emplaced as dozens of tanks begun moving into their position. Finally, the thousands of guardsmen finally settled into their positions, the front line occupied by hardened veterans like him. Though it would have been better to have the defense there, time was of the essence, and this location was the one point where all portions of his force can converge in the quickest amount of time to have sufficient preparation against the enemy.

"Sir," an urgent voice said, knocking him out of his contemplation. It was his master vox caster, Davis, holding a communicator that blared static. "Word is in from the scouts, the Orks were sighted nearing our position right on schedule."

"And of the scouts?" He queried, taking the cigar from his scarred lips.

"They were spotted by hostile elements before the transmission was over." He began slowly, "We aren't keeping our hopes up."

"May the Emperor help them…" Santiago whispered before taking a long, final puff on his half burnt cigar, then unceremoniously flicking it to the ground, crushing it beneath his boot. There was a long regal pause before the Commissar-Major said, "It is time."

The comm. specialist took his cue and ruffled his pack for a long card that looked like a keyboard and begun typing a series of numbers into it. After a while, he drew out another communicator, shaped like a microphone, and held it out in front of his superior. "Ready when you are, sir."

"Hear me, Men of the Imperium!" Santiago began, his commanding voice simultaneously being relayed from every tank cockpit down to the countless vox casters of a thousand platoons. As one, the soldiers of the nearly twenty thousand strong force went silent, their attention quickly fixed onto the Commissar-Major. "The enemy has finally converged upon us! Their swords have drawn the blood of our greatest warriors! Their boots have trodden over the countless innocents! They seek to do this to each and every human they come across on this planet, and now, their attention has turned to you!"

He paused for effect, adjusting his hat against the chilling breeze before resting his hand on the hilt of his power sword. Santiago wasn't one for theatrics, but with all the eyes and ears converged on him, his office as a Commissar dictates it is his responsibility to instill morale into men during the most hopeless of situations. Though the odds were stuck high against them, the bravery of every single man here could be the wild card that could either spell victory or defeat. The ground was slowly beginning to shake, with the sound of looming thunder in the distance. The enemy will soon be upon them.

"Make no mistake, they are already tasting your blood on their lips!" He finally continued, each and every man hanging on to his voice. "They laugh at you! They think they can simply cast you aside and bring death most painful unto your people! They expect you to watch helplessly as they rape your families! Will you simply allow them to do as they please?"

There was a long silence before the Commissar-Major barked heatedly, the adrenaline rush overtaking him.

"I said: Will you let them do as they please?!"

The response was in unison, a deafening cry that dwarfed the oncoming thunder of the waagh!. The various war machines were even blaring their horns. "NO!"

"Will you stand idle as they overtake this planet?!"

"NO!"

"Will we fall and die today so that your families will die too?!"

"NO!"

"Damn straight we say no!" Santiago growled as he unsheathed his power sword, his blade crackling to life as he activated it's energy field while his other hand pulled a bolt pistol from its holster. In the horizon, a tinge of green was finally visible over the pure white snow. "Weapons at the ready men, for hearth and home! For the Emperor!"

What followed was a bursting cheer of approval, and then the guardsmen hurried to make final preparations. Tech crews begun loading the first wave of deadly shells into the artillery, the huge barrels pivoting into proper positioning so that their shots would come down as a rain of death to the Orks. Tank crews prepped their iron steeds for combat, the main cannons armed and ready to fire while the support weapon sponsons were idly pivoting in position. The legions of guardsmen were checking and double checking their own equipment. Some fastened bayonets onto the ends of their lasguns, and the rest of the force quickly followed their example while their officers brandished a myriad of chain swords and power weapons. By now, the orkish waagh! was like a green tidal wave as far as the eyes could see, and Santiago, stood steadfast atop the barricade, his expression defiant to the fear of death.

The Ork waaagh was like a raging stampede of green muscle, bone, and the highest degree of unpleasantness any xenos species outside the warp could muster. They ran on foot, devoid of any kind of cavalry, and could run for days on end without breaking stride. At the forefront ran the Nobz, the largest and most well armed Orks of the Waagh! At their center was the Warboss himself, Ghazzak Da Butcha', wreathed in a bony, horned crown of a fallen beast and draped with thick furs, giving him the appearance of a large, green Minotaur. He brandished a 'Uge choppa for which he got his title and a vast tower shield made from the salvaged door of a fallen Rhino transport, his scarred face curled into a snarl as he caught sight of the humans.

"Look wut we got 'ere, you mangy grotz!" He addressed his honor guard of captains, each one identified by the similar horned helms they bore, though not as impressive as the Warboss'. "Moh' of dem 'Ummiez! Dohn' dey evva lurn? We iz the stompiest an' choppiest Orks on diz 'ere block of iyzz!"

His retinue grunted their approval, some playing saps to the boss and sucking up to him.

"Lukz liyk we got ourselvzz a good ole fashun killin buh'forr da mayn corz!!" He continued, "Rally up da boyz! Its tym to show deez ummies wut it teyks ta set up a ryt an proppa WAAAAAGH!!!"

"WAAAAAGH!" His horde roared in response, picking up the pace as they all craved for a piece of the killing.

The chilling battle cry reached the imperial lines, but the Commissar-Major did not falter. Instead, he rose his sword up into the air, then brought it down swiftly, pointing it at the Orks. "Artillery guns, fire at will!"

Not a fraction of a second later, what followed was a devastating crescendo of blasts that splintered the air around him as the first wave of shells were fired to rain death on the enemy. His ears had yet to stop ringing before another wave followed suit, splintering the air anew as a second salvo hurtled towards the orks.

The shells exploded in a cloud of dust and gore as the unarmored orks were ripped to pieces by the mere concussive force of the explosions alone. But even as the blood and bits of flesh that was once their brothers rained down on them, the Orks didn't break stride, lurching forwards in a berserker fury, many of which laughing in a maniacal manner, the many wyrdboyz scattered throughout the mass shouting prayers of thanks to Gork and Mork for such an opportunity to do battle.

Santiago clicked his tongue at what he was seeing. The assault was hitting the orks hard, but all it seemed to be doing was make them madder. Without further ado, he raised his sword once more, signaling the tanks to begin firing their main cannons. He had already given orders to the tankers to aim at the ground just before the Waaaagh! in hopes of catching their elite frontline in the blasts. The noise was now reaching it's peak, and the Commissar-Major could only imagine how bad it was for the crews right next to the guns themselves.

Though what the tanks lacked in power as compared to the bigger artillery, they made up for it by rapid reload time that gave them twice as fast a firing rate as the big guns.

Ghazzak roared in fury as the ground in front of him was rip asunder by one of the humans' death spitters. With a great heave, he leapt across the massive crater, shield and all, and landed right back into a run. His retinue followed suit along with most of the Nobz, but some were either caught by the blast or fell short of the leap, being trampled to death by the lesser orks behind them. In seconds, the craters were filled up by those who suffered similar fates.

Due to the proximity of the Waaagh!, most of the artillery guns were rendered useless by now, the sense of sound slowly returning to the soldiers of the Imperium.

Commissar-Major Santiago, rejoiced at being able to hear the sound of his own voice again, immediately began barking orders to his men. "All heavy weapons teams, fire at will!"

In a blaze of glory, countless rocket launchers and autocannons exuded a cloud of thick smoke on the battlefield as the burning smell of ozone was gave courtesy by the red lances of light from the lascannons.

Growling in defiance as a rocket blazed towards him, Ghazzak brought his tower shield to bear and swatted the rocket with enough force to hurtle it out of control and instead head for an unfortunate group of boyz behind him who were engulfed in a fiery explosion.

"Ya soddin bah'studdz tink ya kann teyk me down wid ya shooty gitz? HAH!!"

This wasn't looking good for the Imperial lines. No matter how much enemies they took out by range, the Orks just kept on coming. Soon enough, he found himself leveling his pistol and unloading a whole clip of bolter rounds into the green mass in front of him. The entire force now followed suit, blasting away with lasguns, plasma weaponry, bolter rounds and the like into the oncoming waaaagh! whose warriors died in droves.

However, the inevitable close combat part of the battle was coming up, and Santiago knew that their chances had gone from little to none at all when it enters that phase. These savage xenos filth would rip his men apart with their bare hands.

Ghazzak grinned maniacally as he blindly ran head long for the enemy, the tower shield was held in front of him as countless rounds splattered across the salvaged piece of metal. Besides him, his retinue and some of the Nobz had similar shields and followed by example, though other shields were just ripped apart by the level of fire power they were put under, killing the shieldbearer instantly.

"WAAAAAAAAAGH!"

Flamers and Melta weapons all around Santiago roared to life as he slipped on a fresh clip into his bolt pistol, and the smell of burnt flesh joined the already pungent scents that filled the air. Taking up his sword once more, he leveled his pistol and took out a greenskin with every shot. Time seemed to stand still as the Orks neared ground zero of their assault.

"May the Immortal Emperor guide our souls unto eternal rest…" he whispered quietly to himself before sterning his gaze at the green skins in front of him. Death was staring at him in the face, and he will not cower from it. Possessed by renewed vigor, he jumped over the barricade that separated him from the Orks, bringing his power sword in front of him as he ran to meet his death without fear. The men of his frontline need only look at his example and followed suit, jumping over the barricade and ran after him, guns blazing in their wake into the the Waaaaagh!

"The Emperor protects!"

End of episode one…


End file.
